


Lost Soul

by urhqtrash



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 18:30:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18057776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urhqtrash/pseuds/urhqtrash
Summary: he's not welcome anywhere so when he slips from life, the seance is stuck waiting to be pulled back.





	Lost Soul

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: my first fic! had a dream about this and haven't been able to shake it so I'm giving it a go. hopefully you enjoy!

The black is coming, slowly encroaching on his vision as he stares blankly up at the face of the brother who he had never been able to save. And even as he feels himself fading, the weight on his chest stopping his breath before it can leave his mouth he is so sure that it was worth it. With a final gasping breath he lets go. 

Black.  
Black.  
Black.

A flash of bright blue blossoms across his vision and he's back in the ambulance on the day that he found out that Reginald died. The events playing out remind him of a movie; though admittedly one unlike he'd ever experienced. Even as he feels his body lurch forwards there is little that he can do; he can feel the hand of the paramedic but he can't choose to stay. He's a guest in his own body, riding passenger as he experiences this all again. 

He's thinking about finding a way out when the news flashes across the small screen, words throwing him back into the past emotionally. Fear bubbles in his stomach as bile spills into his mouth but just like the first ( and only so far ) time around, he just laughs as though unaware of how this will lead to the end. 

He goes to lean back, and the blackness is back. 

Black.  
Black.  
Black.

A flash of hot white adrenaline and the rush of successfully stealing from his father, overcomes him and it takes him a moment to realize what he's doing. 

“No, no, no!” He screams, trying to avoid throwing the book away but nothing comes out. The journal lands in the dumpster where he knows that it will be found by Harold Jenkins - who will bring about the end of the world with the information it contains. 

This time the blackness is a relief, a moment of peace in a storm. 

Black.  
Black.  
Black.

Red blood drips down his torso onto a towel as the spirits shriek. And this time he doesn't do anything - this was good, he did something good. 

The ghosts tell their stories using his lips, and he's never felt more like the ouija board that his father tried to make him into. But satisfaction rests in his stomach instead of fear, and he's smiling even if it never reaches his lips. 

The black comes, hitting him just as his torturers turn on him again and he welcomes it. 

Black.  
Black.  
Black. 

Hot white light consumes him, the flash of a camera - it takes a picture that he never should have been in. And out of the corner he sees Dave. Dave. Lips he never should have kissed and yet he wants nothing more than to turn and kiss them again.

But he can't because the camera flashes again and they're in the trenches, and he's dead. A medic won't come but he can't stop his mouth from begging, screaming until his voice is hoarse. 

He's on the bus again when the black takes over and he drifts off. 

Black.  
Black.  
Black.

Ben slaps him, and Klaus wants to hug him but he can't. Can't do anything but allow the memory to drag him along; can't do anything but watch the same mistakes be made again as if a bad movie is on rerun and he's strapped into the chair. 

He hears a scream; it's catching on the wind like he is and he dismisses it as another spirit looking for help that he can't provide. He's not really here after all, these days long gone; moments allowed to swirl in the drain forgotten in the heat of the almost apocalypse and the following upheavals. And he stops fighting, willingly allowing the black to consume him. 

Black.  
Black.  
Black.

He hears someone screaming through the shadows, a familiar voice calling his name but he doesn't look for them instead following the flash of white. And he's in front of God again, the little girl on her bike, telling him that he can't stay here. 

Klaus wonders if that's what the darkness is; the result of not being able to go where he had been then. A shadowy trap between life and death where he would spend eternity; just how long would it feel like to spend eternity somewhere? He goes to sigh and remembers that he can't, oh well back to the black he supposed.

Black.  
Black.  
Black.

He hears his name again though this time it's a choir of voices calling out to him; it reminds him of them. The screeching voices and decaying bodies of the mausoleum and as he remembers the torment that his father tried to use to teach him he sinks into the memory. Knowing that he's not really here is comforting; it takes away the fear. 

But it's not enjoyable so he let's go, content at least for now to float.

Black.  
Black.  
Black.


End file.
